


Take it off

by RedChucks



Category: Nathan Barley (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mention of sex, Swearing, thats about it for this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: A short prompt piece that I never actually posted.Dan and Jones, post jump. Jones is being a little shit for all the right reasons.





	Take it off

"You heard me. Take. It. Off."

Dan was fair shaking with rage as he spat out the words, his eye twitching and brows doing some sort of repressed-English-man dance of misery. Jones grinned at him, wide and brutal and wicked. He'd been hoping for this reaction. 

"Take off what, Dan?" he asked with the most insincere innocence Dan had ever heard. "What's wrong?"

"Take. Off. The. Shirt." Dan repeated through gritted teeth and Jones watched until he could actually see the man's muscles shake. Genius. 

He looked down, as if he couldn’t remember what he had on, and stretched out the fabric to give a better view of the image on the t-shirt, of the dead pig, the dark imposing figure in the cassock and collar, the mismatched shadows on the photoshopped face of Dan 'The Preacher-Man' Ashcroft. It was so ugly it made him want to vom and he could imagine what it was doing to Dan, which was exactly why he was wearing it.

He'd been trying for days to get Dan to crack and it was finally happening. After the window incident Dan'd just shut down, walking through the world with his eyes on the ground and his soul stamped beneath the trendy trainers of Yeah? and Barley. Jones had tried to bring back some of the old Dan, the Dan who got drunk and ranted about what was wrong with the world and yelled in to the void with Jones at his side and and wasn't afraid to tell people when to step off and when to jump of a bridge. He'd had opinions and he'd stood by them and kept his life firmly in hand and Jones wanted that man back. 

Jones had tried making Dan happy, offering affection, giving him space, everything that he thought might work on a normal person. Until he remembered that Dan wasn't a normal person. Dan had set his sights on his own self-destruction and was determined to do what ever hurt him the most, and his anger had died somewhere on that path, leaving a chasm of apathy in its wake so wide that even Jones was in danger of tumbling in. So he'd decided to force the anger back in, to fill the hole, and he'd known, from the moment he laid eyes on that travesty of a t-shirt, that it would do the job.

"You want me to take off my t-shirt?" he asked with feigned confusion? "What, you want me to strip?"

He made sure to grin extra wide, making sure Dan could see the taunt, the challenge, and watched as Dan stood still for a moment, swaying like the drunken metronome he was, before he charged forward with such force that Jones, when Dan grabbed the front of his shirt, barely managed to brace himself against the impact.

"You do Not," Dan yelled as he tore the cheap fabric away from the collar, "wear this Shit in our house! D'you hear me? That is not me! That is not me! That is not me!"

He continued to rip and tear and swear at the t-shirt until it was a stretched and tattered mess but he wasn't ready to stop, oh no. The anger had finally risen and was pouring from his mouth like vomit, as Jones had hoped it would. He let himself be pushed about and manhandled as Dan forced what was left of the offending shirt off of his body, tugging his head through the collar and pushing stray scraps of cotton from his shoulders, all the while rambling and yelling that it was filth and he hated it, hated what they'd turned him in to, what he'd become and what had become of the world.

Jones was so focused on Dan's face and the parade of emotions that was marching across it that he didn't really register the first tug at his belt, but he woke up to what was happening when Dan grabbed at his jeans and tried to force them downwards. Dan was still swearing but he was tiring too, losing his momentum and Jones knew it was time to shift gears.

"Hey, whoa there," he said gently, stepping back and holding his hands up to show Dan that he wasn't going to retaliate but that he needed Dan's hands off him. He let Dan catch his breath and took a few deep ones himself while he waited. 

"Sorry," Dan mumbled, but Jones shook his head.

"Nah," he said. "You got angry. That's good. That's the Dan I know. Did it feel good?"

Dan looked up at him, eyes turned to slits as he tried to gage what Jones was playing at.

"Yeah," he said eventually. "It did. It felt good. Felt so fucking good. I'd almost like to do it again."

"Good," Jones replied. "Cos that dick you work with, Ned, had a whole box of those Ts." Dan groaned but Jones just grinned wider. "S’alright though. I nicked 'em. Figured we could get creative and get your fire back."

Dan grinned at him then. The wolffish grin that made Jones shiver in anticipation, and he hoped like hell that Dan would make good on the promises of wickedness held in that smile.

"A fire sounds like a perfect idea," he agreed, before stepping back in to Jones' space, waiting until Jones brought his arms down to sit loosely around Dan's waist - a sign that the good kind of touching could begin - and then brought his mouth down to bruise the skin of Jones' neck. 

Now it was Jones’ turn to make some noise. It had been so long since Dan had touched him and he couldn't hold himself back against such emotion. His Dan was coming back to him, his angry, venomous Dan, and he intended to buoy that anger up and keep it stoked at least long enough for Dan to stand up and see that he was too good for the shit he'd been putting himself through.

This time when Dan tugged at his jeans he went with it, capturing Dan's lips with his and giggling through the kiss as Dan mumbled obscenities, until all of his clothes were gone and Dan's mammoth hands were grabbing at his arms and skimming over the skin of his chest and belly. The giggle turned in to a cackle when Dan stepped back from him, grabbed up one of the larger scraps of the offending shirt and, with his eyes focused on Jones', tore it in two. Dan grinned back, throwing the pieces over his shoulder before attacking his own shirt buttons with the same aggressive joy. Discarding his clothes he stepped back into the circle of Jones' arms, his mind finally settling in to a state of equilibrium.

"You are such a little shit, you know that?" he growled, and Jones turned up the wattage on his grin, the one he knew made Dan's blood boil. 

"I just do what I've gotta do," he replied with a lopsided shrug. "Now, you gonna fuck me or not?"


End file.
